Gotcha!
by s'cfanin
Summary: What happened after the famous Gotcha!-moment? Maybe this one...


Summary: What happened after the famous Gotcha!-moment? Maybe this one… I like to think of it as their first real night together (I suppose what happened after their first kiss was more of a quick one night stand), and the starting point of (at least Christian) falling in love.

…_Gotcha… _

Yeah, he has.

"Come back to mine."

"Okay."

The day went by, slow like ass. The evening started. I contemplated cooking dinner, putting a hot DVD into the player, running over to the market to get his favourite flowers. In the end I was too nervous for any of that and decided to just prepare myself for the night and everything nice to come.

Whilst waiting, accompanied by my best red I let the pictures of the day flood my mind. Our fight. Our constant bickering at one another. His joke. And I realize, today, I saw the real Sy for the first time. Of course, we had had a laugh before and it's also not the first time his charm and smile turned my head to mush. No. But it certainly is the first time he used all this to his advantage for spinning me into his web, and I don't mind it one fucking bit.

Although, he seemed surprised by my immediate reaction but in the end he agreed on tonight and that, too, is a big surprise.

The first time he was coming onto me. I reacted on instinct because… well, how couldn't I? Being kissed by that fascinating, mysterious, handsome, sexy bloke… I didn't ask him why, why he was kissing me, why he was frantically ripping at my shirt and why he insisted on me doing all the things to him that felt so good.

Today, it was me, demanding him visiting me. Easy for him to say no. Giving me a good slap in the face. Telling his Muslim family their business partner made him a nasty, despiteful offer. Instead he smiled and breathed _okay_, and that, of all, means something else altogether. Our first encounter wasn't an accident. It wasn't just a one night stand. Not just the danger of the forbidden fruit, tasting a bit of the western, non-muslim, non-family world. Because for that he hardly need a man.

_Yes… No… I dunno… A couple of times… Four…_

He likes men. Probably always had. And he's going to live a lie. Wrong and dangerous on so many levels. And yet, I can only imagine what his community is able to do to him if they ever find out. He probably figured that out as soon as these _strange_ _thoughts_ started to rise in his head, and simply decided he'd rather live a lie than be stoned to death or whatever the punishment for loving men is.

Before I can sink further into misery about a situation I have absolutely no control over the doorbell rings and half a minute later Sy is standing in my doorframe, and I can't resist.

"Hey, handsome."

He _is_ handsome, illuminated by the last light of the day, hair falling around his face in a sexy mass, even his simple black shirt and jeans leave me breathless. Of course not for long but when I give him my brightest smile and pull him towards me into the flat I painfully recognize a certain uncertainty in his composure.

"Christian… I don't think I…"

Oh no… Oh no no no no no! You're not going to wriggle out of my grasp now, Mister!

Before he _can_ actually wriggle out of my grasp and my flat I press him firmly against my chest, wind my arms around his torso and cut off any protest with kissing him breathless, my tongue sliding in and out of his mouth, and in the end am rewarded by his hands and mouth all over me while he navigates me towards the sofa.

We make love on my sofa. We lie in each other's arms, halfway covered by my light blue blanket, enjoying the post-coital silence. His body feels like heaven against mine. His eyes are closed but I know he's not asleep. He's smiling and pecks at my shoulder blade every now and then with his lips, part of his gorgeous mouth that's so well skilled that I lose control by just thinking of it.

We go up around eleven, warm up a rest of cheese and ham pizza, feed each other with the delicious fast food in my bed and make love again, this time right where we are, in my bed, entering a whole new world for the both of us. Granted, there had been a vital number of men sharing this experience with me, and what Sy admitted earlier on I doubt his one night stands stopped at kiss and touch (and once he's expertly squirming and moaning underneath me, I know I'm just about right). Nevertheless, me and him together like this feels like absolute bliss, like sun and shine and sugar and spice and… and like nothing else matters apart from us, and I think I've fallen in love head over heels for this adorable gay Muslim boy.

I don't have any doubt whatsoever about Sy feeling exact the same way – I mean, why would I? There was no force from my side and he certainly didn't mind any of my actions. He even stayed when we weren't having it on. Only sitting on my kitchen chair in his birthday suit, ordering me to take the ham off of his side of the pizza while I had real trouble lifting my eyes off of the gorgeous body of him.

That's why I mind it just a tiny little bit when I wake up and he's gone. Nothing against a morning cuddle but I'm pretty sure there's plenty of time for that now we're an item, at least for ourselves, inside my flat. I'm smart enough to know he's hardly going to shout the events of the night 'round the square. Normally, the thought of being with a closeted bloke in a secret relationship would only make me retch, but with Sy it's all I can expect to have, given his family, community, Amira…

Anyway, I'm too much in love to worry, so I get dressed and fly high as a kite into the Caf, where I order the full Works of the full Monty from Jane.

"I would like the full works. The full monty. The full fullness of a full breakfast."

"Someone's happy…"

"Happy and… hungry!"

I barely sit when my Sy is walking in, greeting me with a shy smile, and I know it's going to be a good day.


End file.
